


Blindfold

by sherlocksblackbird



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-10
Updated: 2012-08-10
Packaged: 2017-11-11 19:51:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/482273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sherlocksblackbird/pseuds/sherlocksblackbird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Total PWP about a funny little experiment that turned into a whole lot more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blindfold

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first smut. Ever. Don't judge me too harshly, but please tell me what I've done wrong. This was co-written between me and my husband. We write smut in our free time. XD

Tired after a long day at work, John shuffled up the stairs to 221B. Shucking his shoes and coat, he stepped into the cozy apartment, ready for a nice cuppa and a good sit down, but he ought to have known better.

BANG. “OW.” THUD. “ARGH.”

Sherlock was fumbling around the room, knocking his shins against the coffee table and bouncing off the chairs. He was blindfolded.

Sighing heavily, John stepped into the room, dodging Sherlock’s outstretched arms. “What on earth are you doing?”

“It’s for a case, John,” Sherlock said, facing John’s general direction. “I have to prove that the husband could not possibly have navigated his home in the dark without making noise.”

“Right. Well. I’m going to make a cup of tea-”

“No this is a perfect opportunity.” He tugged the blindfold off, ruffling his hair softly. “It’s your turn. Just try to navigate the living room without bumping into anything.”

With a flourish he stepped over to John, who was protesting weakly and rolling his eyes. Gently, he tied the length of fabric around John’s head, checking and double checking that his eyes were covered.

“Can you see anything?”

“Is this my tie?” John asked blearily.

“It’s for an experiment, John. Can you see?”

“No.”

“Alright. Let’s begin.” Sherlock placed his hands on John’s shoulders, gently guiding him over to the couch. “You’ll start here. Make your way to the door.” Letting go, Sherlock stepped back and gave John some space. 

John could feel the expectance radiating off of Sherlock. He was blind as a bat, and suddenly everything felt louder. Taking a tiny step forward, he stretched out his hands, searching for some frame of reference. THUD. He hit the coffee table. Well at least he knew where he was now. He could feel Sherlock to his left. Sidestepping the table, he made his was forward, dodging furniture from memory, bumping into a few things and finally he made it to the door. He placed his hand proudly on the knob and gave it a turn just for effect.

Sherlock had been silent the entire time. Suddenly he was directly to his right. “Very good,” he purred into John’s ear. “Now do it again.”

This time, he only bumped into his chair and nothing else. 

“John, that was excellent. You are proving my theory wrong, but never the less this is excellent.” He placed his hand on John’s shoulder once more, steering him. When John’s back hit the wall his nose crinkled in confusion. 

“Sherlock?”

Sherlock leaned forward, just barely touching his lips to John’s ear. “Yes, John?”

Weak at the knees, John fought to remain level headed. “Sherlock what are you doing?”

“That blindfold makes you look rather delicious, John,” Sherlock purred, nipping very gently at his ear.

“Married to your work?” was all John could manage as he squirmed. It’s very hard, he thought, to speak when you are backed against a wall with Sherlock Holmes’ teeth on you. And indeed it was.

“You,” nip “Have very swiftly become,” nip “My work.” Very slowly, Sherlock kissed down John’s neck, finally taking his throat between his teeth, not biting, but with the possibility there. His tongue flicked out curiously, tasting John ever so slightly.

“Ah,” John squeaked, tilting his head back to allow Sherlock more room.

“I’ll stop if you tell me to,” Sherlock murmured, lips still pressed to John’s throat. 

In the back of John’s mind, the part that wasn’t attached to his growing erection, he knew that this could make things rather awkward around the flat. Mates don’t just go ‘round fucking each other and then have a nice cup of tea and some telly afterwards. This could go very wrong.

Unfortunately, the rest of his brain was currently occupied, and so all he had in response to Sherlock was a very weak, “Uh-uh.” muttered between a gasp and a moan the likes of which would have made Mrs. Hudson chide them for the sound alone. Sherlock's tongue and teeth were fingers plucking the unseen strings beneath his skin and sending heat rushing in every direction like the notes in a song. 

The world's only consulting detective played him like an English lullaby--but one part of him in particular was wide awake, pressing firmly against the cloth of his trousers, hard as hell with no place to go.

Lithe fingers flitted over the skin of his throat, and John could swear that Sherlock was taking his pulse. His poor old heart was sure to be pounding under Sherlock's ministrations, bouncing around his ribcage like a wounded bird. But he didn't care. Sherlock's touches were wonderful. Not loving, not even caring, but curious and tender. Those long fingers trailed down his side and tugged gently at the hem of his jumper, sliding under and smoothing over John's warm skin.

Sherlock's lips never left John's skin, and though he couldn't see, John had the faintest idea that Sherlock's eyes were closed as he played him, humming softly and toying so very gently with his neck. A particularly hard nip evoked a moan from John that he ought to be embarrassed about, had he the capacity to care. Instead, he just continued to squirm, sliding his hands into Sherlock’s thick hair. A quick tug drew a moan from the detective, a sound so uncharacteristically vulnerable that John's erection surged, flexing in his jeans. 

“Sherlock,” John moaned, writhing and tugging Sherlock’s hair. 

“Mmm yes, John?” nip.

"Sherlock--Sherlock--" he stammered, his hands coming up to clutch at the man's shoulders. "Sherlock--stop--stop--" He was flush in the face and looked absolutely stunned, but he wasn't protesting. One of his hands slid up to Sherlock's neck, the touch tender, their skin soft. The detective, for once, didn't know what was going to happen. 

John bit his lip. Then he yanked the man forward.

Their bodies pressed against one another so neatly it was as if their cushy collision was meant to be. John's lips naturally fell to Sherlock's--and suddenly he was pushed even harder against the wall than ever before, held in place by the detective's kiss. He moaned hotly into Sherlock's mouth: they'd brushed up against one another, and now their shafts twitched and shivered with lustful electricity. 

Sherlock slipped his hands up to John’s head, slowly untying and pulling off the blindfold. John’s eyes took a moment to adjust, but when they did they fell upon Sherlock, flushed and beaming and looking right at him.

Their lips crashed together once more, teeth nipping and tongues dancing. John slid his hands down to Sherlock’s waist, gripping tightly and pulling his hips flush against his own. Both men groaned as their hard cocks came together. Sherlock slipped his hand under the waistband of John’s jeans, burying his fingers in the hair there.

John whimpered and pleaded, “Please, Sherlock, please.”

“Please what?” Sherlock purred, nipping at John’s ear.

“Just please. Please, Sherlock.”

Sherlock pulled back and grinned wickedly. “You’ll have to be specific, and you’ll have to ask nicely.”

John groaned. “Sherlock, p-please blow me, just do it already I’mgoingtoburst.”

Sherlock immediately dropped to his knees, ripping John’s trousers open and pulling his proud and heavy cock out. He blew gently on the head, and licked the little bead of precum away. He moaned and took John in all the way, very suddenly.

John cried out and bucked forward, nestling his fingers once again into Sherlock’s hair. He fought against his urge to just fuck the shit out of Sherlock’s mouth.

Sherlock must have sensed this, because he popped off, looked John in the eye and growled, “Do it.”

John swayed forward a bit and moaned when Sherlock was back on him. Gently at first, taking care to not choke Sherlock, he bucked and ground into his warm, wet mouth, tugging his hair and keeping contact with those icy blue eyes.

Closing his eyes and moaning, Sherlock slid his hands up to John’s ass, tugging and massaging. This made John buck and grind even harder, pressing all the way into Sherlock’s eager mouth. Sherlock choked and spluttered but urged John on and soon he could feel that all too familiar buildup in his body. 

“Sher- lock- I’m...”

Sherlock growled around his cock, taking his hips in his hands and gripping tightly. John pounded into his face and wrenched on his hair and finally, with a growled name, he spilled into Sherlock’s mouth.

Lapping it up, and quite pleased with himself, Sherlock licked John clean and stood up, cupping John’s face with his hands. He kissed him softly and rested his forehead against John’s. 

“I want you,” he growled, nipping at John’s lip.

“Well it’s only fair at this point,” John panted, kissing him back.

With a grin, Sherlock took John’s hand and led him to his bedroom, which was surprisingly tidy, and pushed him to the bed. John tugged his trousers off and made quick work of disrobing himself. Sherlock merely stood by the closed door and watched, like a cat. When John was completely naked and sitting awkwardly on the bed, Sherlock stepped forward, unbuckling his belt and unbuttoning his shirt.

No words passed between the two men and Sherlock disrobed and dug into his nightstand for lubricant. John sat patiently on the bed, and Sherlock made his preparations in silence.

Finally, he turned his attention to John, smirking and stepping forward to straddle his legs. He bent down and kissed John once more, exploring his mouth with his tongue and nipping softly at his lips. He pressed him down onto the bed, resting atop him and kissing him roughly. Sherlock ground softly against John’s hips, letting his hands explore his body.

“I need you, John,” he growled quietly. “I don’t often experience such a need.”

John moaned and bucked upwards, running his hands over Sherlock’s back. “Take me, Sherlock. I’m yours.” He chuckled. “Have been for a while, actually.”

Sherlock groaned and kissed John once more, slipping a hand between his lifted legs. He flicked open the bottle of lubricant with the edge of his thumb and let it fall upon John's delicate entrance. The bottle was closed and cast aside in the next instant, and that same thumb pressed into the doctor, stretching and slickening him even as Sherlock leaned in, his cock twitching with need.

One finger pressed into John as Sherlock continued to kiss him deeply. Two fingers pressed in and Sherlock kissed and licked John’s nipple. Three pressed in and John was groaning at Sherlock to just do it already.

So he did. Placing himself between John’s legs, he pressed his cock into the loosened hole and growled. Slowly he pressed in, trying to be delicate, but John was having none of it. He bucked into Sherlock, taking him all the way in.

“Just fuck me.”

“Absolutely.”

With a smile, Sherlock pounded into John, who was squirming and whimpering with pleasure as that slick shaft drew back...and then sank back in, Sherlock emitting a murmuring groan as he felt John swallow him up. It was warm and wet and it clung to him from every direction, beckoning him back in every time he pulled back, and begging him not to go once he'd filled John to the brim.

John clawed at Sherlock, dragging his fingernails down his pale back and digging them into his pounding hips. He bucked up each time Sherlock ground down, being filled over and over, arching his back in ecstasy. 

Sherlock hissed as John's nails slid across his flesh, leaving sharp red marks that fueled his fire in a way previously unknown to him. He took John into his arms, laying atop him, chest to chest, and pulled the other man's head into the crook of his neck, holding him as close as possible--and kicking his hips into gear, pounding as fast and hard and deep as he could, letting all the lust out in one big breathless rush.

He came with John's name on his lips, the man clutched fully and tightly in his arms as his hips slammed into place one last time, Sherlock almost squirming as he pumped shot after shot into the man who was now his lover. 

Spent and exhausted, he flopped over next to John and curled into him, kissing his cheek softly and smiling. They watched each other grow sleepy, and slept peacefully in the other's arms, both content in a new and beautiful way.


End file.
